Chapter 2: Special Delivery~!

A week went by and I actually forgot all about the units. Working at an ad agency isn't exactly restful and my romantic life had taken a sour turn too. On top of all that, the everyday humdrum activities of life continued on. In fact, I was out grocery shopping when the units were delivered to the apartment.

I was frazzled - traffic had been worse than usual - and trying to carry like a thousand bags of groceries up to my apartment wasn't helping my mood. Naturally I expressed this frustration by making loads of noise as I rode the elevator.

"Goddamn Prius, slower than a one-legged turtle in winter…" I grumbled as I stared at the floor indicator. Damn Toyota Prius cars were the bane of my existence, driving 20 miles per hour whenever I had someplace to be.

Then the floor indicator blinked to 8 and with a ding the heavy doors opened. I squeezed out and came into my home hallway, automatically turning left to get to my apartment. But what I saw sitting there brought me up short.

Two freakin' enormous boxes were sitting in front of my door. They were wooden and even taller than me - could I even get them inside?

But I decided to tackle one problem at a time and the first was getting the food put away. It was after that was completed that I returned to puzzle over the boxes. Together the two of them practically blocked my doorway.

I stood with my hands on my hips and I pondered the two of them. I wasn't keen to open them here in the hallway where everyone could see, but I didn't have anything to get them inside easily. Experimentally I shoved one - it might as well have been bolted in place.

"Ugh," I grunted. "This is a fine mess."

Then I noticed a notebook of some kind hanging from the side of one of the crates. I peeled it off and began reading.

Congratulations on the purchase of your America Unit! This is one of our most popular units due to his good looks and friendly (sometimes too friendly!) personality. This guide has been created in order to help you get the most out of your unit.

There are several methods by which the America unit can be removed from packaging. Please note that it is not recommended to pry the lid off to remove the unit. Instead the following methods should be used:

1. Grill up a dozen hamburgers. The unit will be awakened by the smell and sound and can be reprogrammed.

2. Play any patriotic American song at top volume. The unit will awaken to sing along and can be reprogrammed.

3. Speak with a British or Russian accent. The unit will awaken to search for a Britain or Russia unit and can be reprogrammed.

"Interesting." I could certainly do any of those three - though at the moment I had no ground beef and I was NOT going to the store twice in one day. But there was one of them that I could do flawlessly with next to no preparation.

I squared off with America's box. A special talent of mine, which I used sometimes for good and other times for evil, was perfect mimicry. And imitation of anime characters was my favorite kind of mimicry.

"America!" I shouted in a perfect imitation of Britain. "Get your fat arse up now!"

The reaction was immediate: the front of the box ripped off with a loud splintering sound and a grinning America emerged. "Hey, Britain, dude! What's up?!"

At first I was at a loss for words. Unit or not, he looked just like America from the anime! He was tall, taller than me (not that that meant much). His messy blonde hair, his glasses, his WW2 bomber jacket - everything was just like the anime.

For a second he seemed confused; his blue eyes roamed across my tiny living room before refocusing on me. "Hey dudette! Where's Britain at? I just heard him!"

"That was me," I said. "The manual suggested to wake you up that way."

"Hey, then you must be our owner!" America shouted. "I'm America! Nice to meet you!"

"Yes, I know," I replied. His unnecessary volume level was starting to make me wince. "Seriously man, you gotta tone it down like 80 percent. It's a small place, I can hear you just fine."

"What? This is just how I talk!"

"I know, man, but you're killing my ears." Then an idea occurred to me. "Hey, can I reprogram you to 'quiet mode' or something?"

"Oh yeah, you gotta program me! One sec…" America went back to his box and squatted down, sifting through the packing debris at the bottom. He came back after a minute carrying a small iPad. "Here, use this!"

I took the iPad from him. I touched the screen and it brought up a window.

Hello! Please enter the name you would like your unit to call you by!

I typed my name using the keyboard on the touchscreen. "August."

After confirming my name, a new question popped up. Great! And how old are you?

I considered selecting "Don't want to say," but then I chose to type it in. "21."

Excellent, just one more to go! What mode would you like to set your unit in right now?

I was disappointed to see that 'quiet' wasn't an option on the list of choices. But some other modes sounded promising and a couple sounded downright fun. However that was an adventure for another day.

I set him to one of his defaults, Bubbly/Optimistic. That was the most normal-sounding of the settings. After hitting "Enter", one last screen appeared.

That's all for the programming! From here on your unit will interact with you to learn more about you. But you can always use this pad to change your unit's mode manually. Have fun!

Then I looked up at America again - he was being still and quiet for more than half a second. The blues of his eyes were flashing; I was reminded of the lights on a computer as it downloaded and processed some data. After fifteen seconds his eyes returned to normal and a wide grin broke out on his face.

"Hahaha, August is a funny name!" he cackled.

"Shut your goddamned mouth!" I snapped. Ugh, I knew I should've ordered Japan.

"Easy, dudette! It's a great name!" he said cheerfully. "But July would've been better!"

"What the f*ck kind of name is July for a girl?!" I demanded.

"Come on, July! Like July 4th! Independence Day, yo!"

"Okay, seriously bro. Tone it down! Inside voice!"

"This is my inside voice!" he shouted.

Suddenly I heard another violent splintering crash from behind me. I whipped around in time to see Britain prizing the front off his crate, his huge brows furrowed with irritation.

"What's all this bloody racket about?!" he barked.

"Ask the shouting dumbass!" I retorted. Great, now they were both active.

"Britain! What's up?"

"I just activated, you twat! How could anything be 'up'?!"

"Dude, it's just an expression!"

"A moronic expression. Typical of an American."

"Whatever, dude! You're just jealous that I was activated before you!"

"Why the bloody hell would I ever be jealous of you?! And I am not!"

"Haha, you so are!"

"Shut up, America!"

"As entertaining as this is," I bellowed before America could antagonize Britain further, "you both need to shut up before my neighbors complain!"

Britain rounded on me, still wearing his irate expression. "And who the hell are you?!"

Oh, hell no. Nobody takes that tone with me, not even bishonen robots!

"I'm the bitch who's gonna kick the living shit out of you if you don't show her some f*cking respect!" I spat.

I think they were both taken aback by the threat and the swearing: America's grin faded noticeably and Britain's eyes grew as huge as his eyebrows. Unsurprisingly there was a minute of awkward silence.

Confident that my point was made, I adopted a more agreeable tone and expression. "Now, try asking again."

His face still wary, Britain asked in a much nicer way. But America leaped to respond before I could.

"Britain, dude, she's our owner!" he laughed. "Haha, you almost got yourself returned to the Shop!"

"Oh dear," Britain said and now he was all manners. "I'm truly sorry, mum. I really shouldn't let a ruffian like America instigate me in such a way."

"Don't call me a ruffian! What's a ruffian?"

"And seeing as you're our owner, you should take this opportunity to program me." Britain deftly reached inside his military uniform and brought out the same sort of iPad that America had presented me with. "All you need to do is-"

"I got it," I interrupted. "I did this a minute ago when America dug his program pad out of his crate packaging."

"Dug it out…" Britain repeated slowly. Then he pounced on America. "I can't believe you would be so careless, America! If that pad were lost or damaged, it would've been you who was returned to the Unit Shop!"

"You worry too much, bro! I got things under control!"

"Saying it does NOT make it true!"

"Cram a sock in it, both of you!" I barked. I finished with Britain's pad as I spoke, and I watched as he took on the same "processing" look that America had had. Then after a minute he woke up.

"August, hm? A lovely name. I'm sure we'll get along splendidly."

"Of course we will, dude!"

Despite their confidence, I wasn't quite so sure.